Seven Deadly
by RogueMoon
Summary: The Devil demands his due and the son of Essex finds new purpose within the greatest of sins. Mr. Sinister; Gambit; Post-Antartica Seduction to the Dark Side. AU. Character Deaths. Very Dark.
1. Sloth

**Disclaimer:** Standard don't own anything but my imagination, etc, etc goes here

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter One

**::: :::**

**SLOTH:** Laxity in keeping the Faith and the practice of virtue, due to the effort involved. More a sin of omission than of commission.

**::: :::**

The cold had long since seeped into his bones. To the point that he was numb to it. Numb to everything. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to be warm.

How long had he been laying there, barely protected from the harsh wind that cut into him? The remains of the building were the only semblance of shelter he had been able to find. Did it matter anymore? For all he knew it had only been a few hours since he had been left behind. Perhaps years. Left to find his own way home.

No, that wasn't right. He had didn't have a home anymore. That's what she said. No home. Not with her, not with the X-Men.

She claimed he could live or die at his choosing.

Some choice.

No supplies. Not even a shirt. Just the pants of his Shi'ar uniform and a tattered Queen of Hearts. No man could live through that. It wasn't a choice. It was a death sentence.

He couldn't feel the cold anymore. That was bad. Something in his mind told him that was bad. But why should he care anymore?

Why should he care that she left him to die? Why could he still feel the pain from that when everything else was so damn numb?

The wind stopped howling. It took him a long minute to understand that he could no longer hear the wind. His eyes cracked open. When had he shut them? Did it matter? Probably not.

It was hard to see. Vague shapes that could be human. Could be alien. Could be hallucinations. Dark against the burning white of the snow. It hurt to look.

He wasn't completely numb. He wished he was.

He felt his body shake with a bitter chuckle. He couldn't hear his own voice. It should have worried him.

The shapes came closer. More distinct now. He knew them. Recognized them and with recognition came a nagging sense that he should be worried. He should get up and fight. Run maybe.

Run where? He had no home. No one wanted him.

No, that wasn't right. She didn't want him. The X-Men didn't want him. He had no home with them.

But the man before him wasn't her. Wasn't the X-Men. He was the Devil and he had come to collect his due. Hand outstretched. Waiting.

If he didn't take the hand he would still be taken. Probably when he next passed out. If he took the hand... then what? Did it matter anymore? They already thought the worst of him. Left him to die for the murder of hundreds. A murder he didn't commit.

All those platitudes about second chances and trusting and never leaving a teammate behind and here he was, laying in the snow. So numb to everything but the pain of a broken heart.

And suddenly he realized he didn't want to die like this. Not on their terms. Didn't want to give them the satisfaction. Didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

Dying didn't bother him. It was dying like this. Unwanted. Tossed out like garbage.

And there stood the Devil. Wanting him. Always wanting him. Always there for him. Waiting to take him out of hell.

He tried to lift his hand. His body was so damn numb. He couldn't feel anything. He wanted so badly to lift his hand and let the Devil take him. Only the hand staying outstreached told him he had yet to do so. His body working against him. The silence tore at his mind.

His mind...

He couldn't take the hand physically. But his mind still worked. Yes. He could take that hand.

All his carefully constructed shields, so meticulously placed to keep the spooks out, to keep them from finding out his secrets, came crashing down. They didn't matter anymore, did they? The X-Men had still found out. Had still condemned him. What was the point of keeping them anymore when all they would do is keep him here in the cold.

The Devil moved, dropped into a squat. Eye level now. Those blood red eyes replaced that hand in his vision.

Panic at the loss of the hand. He wanted to take it. He really did. He just couldn't get his body to move. He willed himself to tell the other. To shout as loudly as his mind would allow. He wanted to take that hand.

The Devil smiled. It was cruel and kind at the same time. The hand returned. Brushing against his cheek, cupping his chin.

The Devil was in his mind. Looking for the shields. Looking for the trick.

The Devil was so much like him. Always looking for the trick.

But he didn't have any. Not this time. He just didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Warmth flooded him and he felt himself gasp. It filled not his body, but his mind. The warmth of amusement. Of a pleasant surprise. Of victory.

Yes.

Victory.  
The Devil had finally won his soul.

And he didn't care.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	2. Envy

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Two

**::: :::**

**ENVY:** Sorrow over another's good fortune; love of one's own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs; sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low.

**::: :::**

It had been exactly five days, eight hours, twelve minutes and forty-two seconds since he succumbed to the Devil and allowed himself to be take out of hell.

Exactly five days, eight hours, twelve minutes and forty-two seconds since he lost his hearing to the numbing cold of the frozen wasteland she had left him in.

The Devil had pulled off a miracle to save his life. Frostbite had already seeped into his limbs. He still didn't have the full use of his fingers. It would take time. Therapy.

Almost lost his sight, too. Optic nerves were so delicate. He would still need corrective surgery to return his vision to what it had been. It was tentatively scheduled for next week. Once the Devil was confident his body could handle the procedure. His eyesight was blurry, but at least he could see.

He shivered despite the heated blankets surrounding him. The cold was burned into his body now and it felt like it would never go away.

The door opened and a flatliner entered, mouth moving, chatting away before deft ears.

He scowled, sneered, glared at the woman. Was she daft? Had to be. She kept waving her hand in front of him, the mouth moving slower as if saying each vowel individually. He was deft, not blind.

He kicked out at her. Foot striking her stomach and he imagined the cry of pain that had surely escaped that pretty mouth. A cry only she could hear.

He used to hear so much.

Another flatline ran into the room, his mouth moving franticly. He could imagine that the man was asking the woman what happened. Asking her if she was alright. He was leaning down over her, starting to help her to her feet.

He should of heard the man before he got the to room. Should have been able to hear.

Both of them stared at him while their mouths moved. Talking. So much talking.

He could talk too. But he couldn't hear. Couldn't tell if his words came out right. There was no point in talking when you couldn't hear yourself.

He kept his mouth shut and watched the two. The woman began picking up whatever it was she had dropped. The man approached him, hands up in surrender, mouth moving.

Both of them were stupid.

He kicked the man, aiming for the face this time. Satisfied with the feel of bone collapsing beneath his heel.

The woman dropped whatever it was she had brought. Again. Her mouth was moving. He imagined she was screaming for help.

He couldn't hear it.

He wanted to hear it.

At least he could see it, right? At least he wasn't blind.

Blind would be better than deaf, he decided as more people rushed into the room. More flatliners. More people scared of his eyes. His mutant genes. His violent reaction.

They skirted around him, staying just out of easy reach of his legs, dragging the man away from him. Checking him for a pulse. Still had one, of course.

He was a lot of things, but he wasn't a killer.

He glared at them all.

Another one tried to approach, holding one hand up, the other outstretched. Two black pills lay on his palm. His mouth moved slowly. Caution in his eyes.

Had none of them read the medical reports? He was deaf. He couldn't hear them.

Couldn't even read lips. Maybe they thought he could read lips.

He felt his blankets charging.

Their eyes widened and several of them started backing out the door.

He snatched the pills from the outstretched palm with one hand and grabbed the man's wrist with his other. Pulled him close. Charged the pills and stuffed them in the man's mouth. Pushed the man away and laughed as the pills went boom.

The man wasn't dead. But it would be months before he could eat properly again.

Served him right.

Served them all.

He wished he could hear his own laughter. The blankets stopped charging as another shiver ran through him and he pulled them tight. He wished he could talk to them. Hear their words.

Hear their screams.

The Devil walked through the door.

He should have been able to hear the Devil's approach. He wanted sneer at him. Glare. Scream at him to go away and leave him in that horrible silence.

He wanted the Devil to stay and save him from the quiet.

The Devil placed a hand on his head. Brushed his hair back. Murmured in his mind.

He could hear the Devil.

Tears he didn't want to shed, didn't want to feel, poured out. He couldn't hear his own sobs. But he could hear the Devil telling him it would be alright.

The Devil would bring back his hearing. Would not let him be condemned to this silent hell as he had been condemned to the frozen one by the X-Men. By her.

The Devil would be there for him. Would perform another miracle.

Could he please refrain from injuring the help while he waited for the miracle to occur? It was so hard to find competent servants.

He hugged the Devil to him, desperate to keep the sound in his mind.

He could ignore the flatliners for now.

The Devil was talking to him.

He could hear the words.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	3. Greed

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Three

**::: :::**

**GREED**: Immoderate desire for earthly goods; an excessive desire to acquire or possess more than what one needs or deserves especially for personal gain

**::: :::**

The surgery had gone well. That's what the Devil said. And he was right.

He could hear again. Not much. Not yet. The Devil kept him in sound proofed rooms and made sure very few unexpected and especially loud noises could filter through. His eardrums were still too sensitive.

Vertigo wasn't allowed near him. Wasn't allowed to be in the same base as him.

That had made him smile when he found out. Crow was muttering about it, trying not to talk too loudly. Being very careful of his hearing.

It was like a perpetual hangover. Even the smallest whisper rung like the bells of a cathedral, humming in his bones.

Recovery was expected to be slow. A few weeks at least.

He didn't want to be cooped up in the small suite of rooms for that long. There wasn't much there. The Devil had never been one to waste time with physical trivialities. Function over form.

Private bathroom. Private dining room. Private exercise room. Bedroom with a decent bed. Closet filled with scrubs in his size. Television. Desk and a computer. Internet. That was a blessing.

But it was all so plain.

So sterile.

He didn't want to stay here for weeks. Not with it like this. He wanted to be comfortable.

Surfing the internet gave him some relief.

Hacking into the Devil's computer system was more interesting. Gave him something to do.

Took a few days. He was sloppy. The Devil had to know about it. The clicking of the keyboard gave him headaches. Television went unused.

Crow brought him meals. Three times a day. He wished he could talk with the man without his head pounding. Play cards or something. The shuffling drove him nuts.

The bare rooms drove him nuts.

The Devil had to know he hacked the system. Two days later he checked and was surprised to find he still had access. The Devil hadn't locked him out.

That was interesting. Made him wonder what exactly the Devil would let him get away with.

He searched for the location of the lab he was in. Found it easily enough. Got an address even. Officially, the lab was a small brownstone in Chicago. Owned by a Mr. Edmond Atkinson. Public records had Atkinson as a private practice family doctor.

How appropriate.

He shuffled through the system, not even attempting to hide his tracks. He wanted the bank accounts.

He got them.

He grinned.

Two days later the first of his purchases arrived. A petite woman brought the box down to his rooms, careful to leave it just inside the door and make as little sound as possible.

His drab bedding was tossed in the laundry replaced by his nice, new soft comforter, silk sheets and pillow shams.

They cost over a thousand.

Worth every penny he didn't own.

The lap top came next. One of those sweet little netbooks only six inches across and less than a pound. Custom casing. Ace of Spades and a skeletal Joker. Another couple thousand.

The clothes followed. Lots of clothes. Two new wardrobes to put them in once the closet was filled.

He was running up quite a bill.

The Devil could stop him at any time. The Devil didn't.

A week and a half later he was getting bored with exploiting the bank accounts. He could take more sound, louder ones. Conversations with Crow. Television. Music.

Not much more than a couple hours at a time. But it was enough for now.

Crow thought he was insane. Buying everything he had. Crow thought the boss was insane for letting him get away with it. More so than normal. Crow wanted to know his secret.

Why was the Devil being so nice to him.

The Devil was never nice. Never so indulgent to anyone. The others were getting jealous.

He just laughed. He didn't know. He didn't care.

Not at first.

Another week of spending on the stupidest things. Things he didn't even want. Pointless things. Things bought to try and get a reaction from the Devil.

He hadn't found a limit yet. It scared him. It excited him.

What couldn't he get away with?

He decided to leave his rooms.

He dressed for the occasion. He had a new uniform now. Custom tailored. The Devil provided the best personal armor. Any style, any color. Protection of an investment.

He wandered through the lab. Ignored the looks the servants gave him. Some of them were nurses. Some accredited doctors. They were beneath him now. Just servants of the Devil.

One tried to stop him.

He wondered if he could get away with ignoring the fool. So he did. Just stepped around him and kept going.

He could hear the servant make a frantic call. He was too far away to hear the answer when it came.

He kept walking. Up and down the halls. He knew the layout already from when he hacked the computers. But he wanted to actually learn it.

Crow passed him in the halls and gave him an odd look. Asked him if he had been called to the meeting too.

Sure. Why not. He shrugged and followed. Crow didn't seem to care and kept going.

They stepped into the Devil's throne room. A floating chair surrounded by computer banks on three sides.

The Devil sat upon his throne. The Devil smiled at him.

He waved back. He could feel the nervousness of the others. They didn't know what to think. The Devil hadn't told them what to think yet.

The Devil began the meeting. Went over what he needed out of the latest mission. What was acceptable in terms of death and damage to the specimen he wanted.

He pulled out his cards and shuffled them. The others tried not to glance his way. Betray their uncertainty.

He grinned.

He walked through them, past them. Up to the Devil's throne. Shuffling his cards. The Devil watched him but didn't stop his instructions. Didn't stop talking. Didn't do anything to stop him.

He wondered. What exactly could he get away with?

He stopped next to the throne. Turned to face the others, cards tucked into his pocket. His grin splitting his face as he oh-so-casually moved the Devil's arm and sat down on the metal armrest, leaning back. Arm slung over the back of the throne.

The Devil kept talking, left his hand in his lap. Where he had moved it.

There was nothing he couldn't get away with.

The Devil was pleased.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	4. Gluttony

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Four

**::: :::**

**GLUTTONY**: Consumption of immoderate amounts of food and drink; an inordinate capacity to receive or withstand something to the point of excess (ex. Glutton for punishment)

**::: :::**

A month and a half now, since the Devil saved him from the frozen hell. The surgery's were over. His sight back to what it was. His hearing restored. He was growing restless.

He wandered through the base, so familiar with it now he didn't even think about when to turn or what hall to take. He had free reign within the walls. The Devil's only restriction that he could not yet leave.

The Devil wanted to make sure he recovered fully. Would take no chances. He felt fine.

His feet took him to the kitchen. The cafeteria, really. It was a large facility. One of the Devil's largest. Most secure.

He had become a regular visitor. More so than anyone else.

Still sweating from his last workout, he grabbed a tray and piled it high with whatever looked appetizing. An apple, two ham and swiss on rye, Jello cup, cheese ravioli with pesto sauce, quart of milk.

He sat alone, downing the food without really tasting it. Going for seconds after disposing of the trash.

He ate so much more than he used to. Should have been gaining weight.

Worked out too much for that now. Five or seven hours a day.

The Devil found him in the cafeteria, going for thirds.

All he did lately was sleep, eat and work out. The Devil was concerned. Wanted to run some more tests.

All he wanted to do was eat. He followed the devil, bringing what he could carry with him, munching away. The food was gone all too quickly. He wasn't quite full. That was fine. He could eat again later.

The Devil sat him down. Asked him questions.

How long did he spend in the gym? Five or Seven hours a day.

How long of it was weights? One hour, as a warm up.

How long of it was weapon practice? One or two hours depending on how he felt.

How long of it did he use his mutation for target practice? The rest of the time.

How often did he sleep during the day? Six to Eight hours.

Total or at one time? Total.

Length of average interval? Two or Three hours.

How often did he eat? He didn't know. Hadn't really thought about it.

The Devil wanted him to think about. How often? A lot. He was always hungry lately.

The Devil poked and prodded him. Took more blood and other tissue samples. Temperature. Weight.

Weight was worrisome. He had lost five pounds.

He'd just eat more.

The Devil told him to cut down on the time in the gym for now. No more than four hours a day. And start a food journal. The Devil let him leave, notebook and pen in hand.

He was still hungry. He went back to the cafeteria, grabbed some more food. Went to start eating.

Stopped. Opened the journal. Started writing.

**::: :::**

Day: Tuesday

Time: 2:45pm

Food: Three bananas, large bowl of cereal (the generic brand with marshmallows you cheap bastard, spring for the name brand next time), ham and swiss on rye (again with being cheap, better cuts and expensive bread, si vous plait), red Jello cup (want green from now on), pint of skim milk (yum)

**::: :::**

Day: Tuesday

Time: 3:12pm

Food: Cheese ravioli (like these, keep them), another bowl of cereal (same as before), pint of skim milk

**::: :::**

Day: Tuesday

Time: 7:22pm

Food: T-bone steak (medium rare), baked potato (with everything), salad (if you can call the wilty leafy thing a salad), broccoli with cheese sauce (you can keep the cheap cheese for this. C'est bon), glass of water, glass of skim milk (you need to get some beer or wine or something down here, you're killing me with all the fruit juice and generic cola)

**::: :::**

Day: Tuesday

Time: 7:44pm

Food: Seconds on the steak, potato, broccoli and milk

**::: :::**

Day: Tuesday

Time: 11:33pm

Food: Midnight snack! Did you know they were hiding a blueberry pie in the back of that walk-in freezer? It was tres bon topped with a bowl of whipped cream. Hope you weren't looking forward to it, glass of water

**::: :::**

Day: Wednesday

Time: 2:05am

Food: Early breakfast. More of that cereal. Two bowls with milk and a pint of skim milk to drink with. Who does your food shopping? They should be shot. Seriously, let me do the shopping next time. We'll all eat better.

**::: :::**

Day: Wednesday

Time: 6:00am – on the dot even!

Food: Better breakfast. Three egg omelette. Denver style. Lots of peppers. I like peppers. Tabasco sauce for that kick your cooks can't seem to put into anything. Stack of pancakes. The silver dollar ones. Six of them drowned in maple syrup and butter. Glass of O.J., three glasses of skim milk, blueberry muffin.

Cooks asked everyone about the pie. Told them I saw you in here last night on my way to the rec room. They shut up. Started baking a few more. Smells good.

**::: :::**

The Devil found him in the gym. Looked through the notebook. One page already filled. Called him over, weighed him, checked his heartbeat. Lost one pound over night, beat was steady, not yet rushed from exertion.

Blood test was done.

The journal was telling.

His metabolism had become accelerated for some reason. More tests would follow. Another surgery possible.

No, he could not do the shopping. No, they would not buy the expensive foods. It was pointless when the 'cheap stuff' was just as healthy. Yes, they could get green Jello instead. No, he would not turn the cafeteria into a liquor store.

Leave his pie alone.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	5. Pride

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Five

**::: :::**

**PRIDE**: Unrestrained appreciation of our own worth; a desire to be more important or attractive than others; considered the most serious of the seven deadly sins; that which drove Lucifer to compete with God and fall from Heaven

**::: :::**

The Devil was making him wait. The tests were worrisome. His metabolism too high, burning too much energy, too many nutrients. He had to take it easy. Only two hours in the gym, eat only what he needed and no more, then back to the lab for more poking and prodding. More tests and experiments with his blood to try and fix it.

He couldn't join the others when they went out on missions. Got out of the facility. Did their jobs. He could still do his job. Do any job. High metabolism or not. The Devil wouldn't let him. His only consolation came from the fact the Devil was working all hours to try and fix his problem.

He was the one the Devil cared about. He was worth it.

But he was stuck below ground. The lab complex was entirely too small for his liking. Funny that it felt that way when it was one of the largest of the Devil's homes. Fully staffed and all.

He needed to get out. Get some fresh air. Prove he didn't need to be stuck inside just because he was hungrier than usual.

He finished breakfast, restless as he carelessly tossed his trash at the can, missing by a mile. Satisfied when the packaging ignited in a soft foom. Smile splitting his face at the cursing of the staff, fire extinguisher being pulled out.

Laughter rang down the hall.

He wandered. He knew every corner, every hidden passage, every vent, every way to move unseen through the facility. And could do it blind. He was so bored. He was better than this.

A stop at his room to get a shower and change of clothes. A note left on his table. Grey Crow. Mission. Wish he could be there.

He scowled and made the note go boom. Got changed.

He was going outside, needed to go outside.

The Devil be damned.

Trench pulled comfortably over his shoulders, he casually snuck out of the lab and up to the surface. To the quiet Chicago neighborhood just outside of downtown.

It was windy. Cut at him. Chilly. He forgot it was fall. Coat hugged tighter about him. Sunglasses on.

Smirk that made every woman he passed blush and cast second or third glances his way. Every man who wasn't gay or bi jealous, territorial.

He wandered the streets below high rises. Glancing in shop windows, the smell of deep dish pizzas, so famous, enticing him. His stomach growled.

He found a pizzeria attached to an outdoor cafe. Took a table there. Put himself on display. Like he was better than everyone there and knew it.

He was.

Service came immediately. Pretty girl, if chubby. Probably 200 pounds. Not a terrible weight with her height. In her late twenties. Two-toned black and purple streaked hair in a bun. Blushing and flirting and trying to hide it as she took his order.

Another smirk, French endearments pouring out like the smoothest silk, tumbling from his lips. Girl probably wished she had learned that in school instead of Spanish. No alcohol, the Devil had been clear on that. Just a tall, cool glass of milk. Skim if they had it.

She would have gone out and bought him a carton from the nearest market to make sure he got what he wanted. She had other customers before him. She ignored them for his attention. Her co-workers envious.

They should be. He was worth it.

People passing on the sidewalk beyond the small iron fence. Long glances, trying to catch his eye. Phone numbers, slips of paper and business cards mysteriously appearing on the edge of his table. Just as mysteriously disappearing into his coat sleeves. Never looking at them. There one moment, gone the next.

He wasn't even trying.

Someone stopped outright, staring at him. He wouldn't have noticed otherwise. They were all so beneath his attention now.

He looked over, met their eyes. That smirk becoming a cruel, terrible grin. Jubilee. The little Asian-American. Logan's pet. Next to her, a girl with a dark, millano look. Blush painting embarrassment for her friend over her features. Indulgent embarrassment She was attracted.

Jubilee was shocked.

He licked his lips slowly, suggestively.

The pretty, young eyes widened. He imagined she must have gasped, the way her mouth fell open. Though the sound of the crowds and traffic drowned it out.

Her mouth moved. She was trying to speak. No sound came out. Her lips formed the syllables. Gambit.

A question. Unbelieving, but wanting so hard to believe.

He tipped his glasses down. He saw the hope, the joy, the smile take over her face as he winked at her. Red on black eyes.

She jumped the fence and hugged him, laughing and crying and causing a scene. He laughed back, told her and her friend to sit. Join him. Lunch was on him.

The waitress would get them something. Soda's. Pizza. Salad. Whatever they wanted. She blushed and hurried off to do so.

So many questions. Where had he been? How had he gotten out of the arctic? Why hadn't he called anyone? How had he survived and thank God that he had. Cerebro couldn't find him. They thought him dead. All deflected and left with vague non-answers that seemed to satisfy for now.

So many upset looks from passing women who wanted to be sitting with him.

He asked questions of his own. Genuine interest in finding out what had happened to the X-Men since he last saw them. It had been months, after all. He needed up to date intel.

Jubilee and her friend, some flower name or another, were gossips. Once set in motion, their mouths wouldn't stop. They didn't notice how much he ate. How much they ate. How long they sat there until the sun began to set.

They wanted him to come back with them. He said no. He was staying with a friend for now, he would be fine. He'd be in touch later. More vague non-answers. Non-committal.

He'd go easy on Jubilee. Make her death quick. She hadn't actually been one of the ones to condemn him. She just had the misfortune to run with them.

Bill was in the hundreds when they were done. Charged it to the Devil's alias. Came back approved.

Jubilee tried to follow. Tried to find out where he was staying. To lead the X-Men there.

Lost her easily.

He was so much better than them. Didn't need to come back. Run back to them, tail between his legs.

He was better than the whole damn city.

The Devil met him at the door. The door to the brownstone. Less people passing on the street. The Devil looked like an elderly doctor, nothing out of the ordinary as he took the steps two at a time.

He smirked at the Devil, shrugging as he passed. Told him he wanted a real meal. Chicago style deep dish. What better place than Chicago.

Told the Devil he ran into Jubilee as the door shut behind them. Told him the gossip.

The Devil sighed, but couldn't bring himself to do much more. The Devil knew he was good.

The Devil had answers. One of the tests were successful. Tissue regeneration from the frostbite therapy, to keep muscles from atrophy had triggered some regrowth of the brain tissue. The part that had been taken out years ago. His body required more energy because it was producing more. But had no where to go. Nothing to burn but his own body fat. Not all the tissue had regrown.

The Devil would either have to remove the new mass or reattach the old. His choice.

It was an easy choice.

Surgery would commence as soon as possible. Cost negligible. Always negligible.

He was worth every penny.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	6. Lust

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Six

**::: :::**

**LUST**: Hankering for impure pleasures; giving into sexual or sociological compulsions and/or transgressions including (but not limited to) sexual addiction, adultery, rape, perversion and incest.

**::: :::**

Two weeks after the final surgery he was given a clean bill of health. His metabolism was still higher than it had been, but it had stabilized. He was no longer burning his own body out. He had control over the power that first sent him to the Devil.

He would only destroy a theater full of innocents if he decided he wanted to. No more accidents.

The Devil let him leave now, take part in missions. Both alone and with the Marauders. He was their leader now. Grey Crow was upset at first, but it was what the Devil wanted. Had always wanted. They couldn't question the order.

He started tracking the X-Men. It wasn't difficult. The Devil had made a practice of keeping an eye on some of his favorite experiments.

They had started to look for him again. A large concentration in Chicago. Jubilee had talked. He needed to draw them away from the base. Too long in the city and they might actually find it.

Nightcrawler was visiting his friends in Excalibur. In London. London was nice in the winter. He decided to pay the priest a visit over Christmas. He had three days. He would give the man something unforgettable.

He arrived in the city easily enough. The tesseract system the Devil used was more than convenient. Within minutes he was standing outside the Excalibur headquarters.

The people passing him on the street were every bit as appreciative as the people in Chicago had been. He grinned and winked at a few, getting passed phone numbers discreetly before he broke out of the press and took the stairs up to the door.

When he entered, he was greeted by a pretty little secretary. He quietly locked the door behind him as he greeted her. Charmed her. She giggled at him, blushed and flirted.

He came around behind the desk. She didn't think twice about it as she started showing him everything. Showed him how to work the phones and the lobby cameras and the security lockdown. He had her turn off the cameras. Had her lock down the lobby.

Had her on her back screaming his name and begging for more.

She was married. Had two kids.

She had no regrets before he took her life with a final kiss as he charged her heart and made it pop. No pain. She didn't deserve pain. She had been fun. Suicide King tucked into her blouse after he made it look like she was sleeping on the job. First glance wouldn't give away the deed.

He let himself upstairs. No one had noticed the lockdown. The security was lax. No one in the guard room. He sat down at the controls and erased all the tapes for the day. Stopped them from recording. Put it them on a timer to start back up again on Christmas morning, just because he could.

He spotted a woman on the monitor, coming out of the gym, towel wrapped around her wet body. Dazzler.

He grinned and made his way to her on swift, silent feet.

She was surprised to see him. Embarrassed at her state of undress. Tried to go around him and get to her room. He smiled at her. Winked. Began talking.

She forgot her embarrassment. Dropped the towel. Let him take her against the wall. And again on the floor. Pictures and vases and baskets of mail swept from tables, rugs crumpled and chairs overturned. A trail of sex to her room.

He waited until she was asleep to kill her. Another heart went pop. Tucked her in, made it look like she was sleeping. King of Clubs on her pillow. Left the trail of destruction as it was.

King of Diamonds in the guest room, on the desk. A bright red bow attached. Kurt's room. A promise.

He tapped his watch and a tesseract appeared. He had another present to deliver. In Africa.

Stormy was visiting her new boyfriend, Ta'challa.

He was going to say hello.

He appeared on a dirty street. The locals staring at him for a moment before scattering. One of them would probably alert the local authority that another mutant was in the city.

He walked casually, hands tucked into his pockets. Red on black eyes raking over the bodies of women as he passed. Many smiled back. Many were whores.

He could make anyone his whore.

The authorities began following him when he made it to the cleaner streets. The more modern ones with buildings that could have been at home in New York. The crowd split before him, his feet taking him directly for the palace.

The authorities recognized this three blocks from the building. They converged on him and he smiled pleasantly at them. They spoke in a language he didn't understand. Wakandan or something like that. He shook his head and replied in English.

One of them stepped forward and responded in kind, asking his business.

He told them he was here to see an old friend for Christmas. Ororo Munroe. He flashed his belt buckle. It was the X-Men buckle, all that was left of his Shi'ar uniform. The Shi'ar had been kind enough to put the buckles on.

The authorities were kinder then. Bowed their heads and gave him an escort. Asked who he was so they could announce him. Told them to tell her an old friend come to see his Stormy. She'd know.

She was running to him moments later, hugging him and touching him in disbelief. As if he'd disappear any moment. An illusion. She was crying.

He was going to have a hard time killing her. He did love his sister.

He asked to talk with her in private. She took him to her room. Asked him to wait a moment. Picked up the phone and called the institute, sobbing happy tears as she told them where he was.

They would stop looking in Chicago now.

She asked if he wanted to talk to them, he shook his head, told her no. He just wanted to see her for Christmas. She was family.

She said they were all family.

He started talking. Started charming her. She found herself kissing him, feeling things for him she had never felt before. Attraction. Desire.

He took her gently. He loved her. She was the sister of his heart. When they were done, he couldn't break her heart. So he broke her neck.

He lay her body out, displaying her like the goddess she was. Kissed her quickly cooling forehead one last time before laying the Queen of Spades over her heart.

He opened another tesseract. Left her to be found by her lover.

He had no regrets.

**::: :::**

End Chapter


	7. Wrath

**Seven Deadly**

A X-Men Fanfiction

Written by RogueMoon

Chapter Seven

**::: :::**

**WRATH**: Inordinate desire for revenge; uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger directed both externally and internally; Crimes most often born of Wrath include murder, assault, genocide and suicide

**::: :::**

Three weeks ago Remy held a glass of red wine in his hand and clinked it against a similar glass held by the Devil as the ball dropped in Times Square. He shared a toast with his employer, his savior, his father, his friend. Exchanged wishes for a fruitful future and indulged in making resolutions.

It was time to make good on his.

Gambit stood in the middle of the destruction. The remains of the mansion's above ground levels scattered around him, a burning skeleton of support beams and window frames. Wood and metal twisted and torn, charred and still smoking.

It was like being back in Seattle. He smiled and lit a cigarette as the Marauders pulled the bodies of a half a dozen X-Men from the ruins. They weren't dead, just unconscious and injured. He didn't want them dead. Not like that, anyway. He wanted to savor the moment.

Power inhibitors were locked securely around their necks and hands cuffed behind backs. Wings once white and now painted a dull gray with soot and smoke shifted as Warren began to come to. A chain was hooked to his collar, tying him to the other five. Harpoon took great pleasure in dragging the group out of the rubble, glass and metal and wood splinters embedding in and cutting their bodies. Blood flowed freely.

It was a beautiful sight.

Gambit moved to the elevator shaft, sealed with heavy steel doors when the mansion blew up. The others were down there, trying to figure out what was happening. Who was attacking them. The topside cameras were all taken out, they'd have no clue.

Vertigo and Grey Crow waited at the door to the Morlock tunnels, securing the only escape route Gambit hadn't been able to blow up and collapse. Once the rest of the Marauder's were below ground and engaging the enemy, they would get to join the fray.

The Cajun knelt down and brushed his fingers lightly across the metal, a glowing smiley face burning a hole through the doors. A million minute explosions that acted like a cutting torch. Blockbuster caught the disc of steel before it could fall more than a few feet. It would not hit the bottom and alert the X-Men that they had cut through.

Clamps were attached to the outside of the hole and a cross pole with a metal cable laid over it. Gambit was the first to slide down, what little light filtered in from above enough for him to see perfectly. His eyes like a cat, nightvision revealing every little thing. Cards tossed as he went taking out the cameras before they could catch sight of him. He slowed his decent just before he hit the top of the elevator car, allowing himself to land lightly and without giving his presence away. He knew every security detail the X-Men used.

Harpoon was next down the line, followed by Arclight, Prism, Scrambler, Riptide and Malice. Blockbuster stayed up top to guard the current captives. Malice inhabited the body of a Jean Grey clone. A body all to herself, no mind to fight for control against. Gambit idly wished that Sabertooth was with them. He would have loved the slaughter to come.

Dismissing the thought, he lifted the ceiling panel to the allow entrance to the car and with a flick of his wrist, two more cards took out the cameras within before he flipped down into it.

The X-Men would know where they were, by virtue of the cameras going dead. But they still wouldn't know who was doing it. Malice had them mentally shielded, that was her main job and she was doing it beautifully. The others entered the car. They were pressed against the side walls as the lights blew, plunging them into darkness. Another smiley face melted a hole in the doors and light filtered in through the smoke.

He could hear the X-Men waiting just beyond the opening. He tapped Riptide on the shoulder and the man stepped into view, launching his shurikens in a lighting fast volley before spinning back against the wall to be replaced by Prism as the counter attack struck. As expected, the X-Men fired back with their energy weapons. Cyclops' eye beam, Jubilee's fireworks and Bishop's guns.

"Guess you were right about me, pup," Gambit chuckled to himself, the sound covered by the noise of the fight.

Prism spun back to his spot against the wall and Arclight jumped through the entrance, the sound of bone breaking telling him that she successfully hit her target. Riptide was the next through, body spinning and shurikens launching, covering Scrambler and Prism as the left, spreading out in the hallway beyond and engaging the enemy. Smoke and noise concealed Gambit's own exit, Malice on his tail as they moved away from the fight. The others could handle themselves in the tight confines of the underground complex.

Gambit and Malice entered the air ducts at the nearest intersection of halls, cameras taken out with a glance and a soft pop. He could have blown the whole complex up, but that would have denied him his vengeance. Sure, the X-Men would have been dead, but they wouldn't have suffered. And they needed to suffer.

Malice touched his leg and he stopped moving. A brief brush against his mind and he got the image of Wolverine sniffing about below them. He looked up and growled. Six adamantium claws pierced the vent in front of the Cajun. Six adamantium claws began to glow a familiar fuchsia. The claws disappeared as the vent collapsed, Gambit and Malice tumbling gracefully to the floor below. Logan's claws still glowed, the light pulsing slightly, matching the eerie glint in the Cajun's eyes as he smirked, "Bonjour, mon ami. Fancy meeting you here."

"What's going on, Gumbo?" Logan's eyes moved from his claws to Gambit to Malice, clearly confused at the sight and smell of Jean as she leaned against the Cajun's back, arms wrapping seductively around his body.

Gambit chuckled ran his hand over one of Malice's arms, it was clearly sexual, "I've been thinking long and hard how ta go about dis. How ta kill de unkillable Wolverine."

Logan snarled and launched himself at the two, stopping in midair as Malice lifted a hand.

"And I figure de only way ta kill ya is ta make sure dere be no cells left ta regenerate. I'd prefer ta do dis in front o' de others. But its probably best ta get dis out o' de way now."

Malice closed her hand into a fist and Logan dropped to the floor, blacking out. His body began to glow and Gambit knelt next to him, eyes focused as the body before him began to disintegrate faster than it could heal. A million explosions, one for each living cell, carefully set off in quick succession. Destroying layer after layer until all that was left were the bones inside the metal skeleton. Gambit placed his hands on the metal and focused on taking out the cells inside it as well. Not a single living cell could be left to regenerate. It was unfortunate he couldn't take back cell samples for the Devil. But it had to be done like this. Nothing left to chance.

Malice still lay draped over his back, shifting slightly as the sounds of battle began to move toward them. He extended his senses and felt the skeleton over one last time. No living tissue gave off that distinctive tingle he associated with it.

He stood and grabbed Malice by the wrist, leading her down another corridor. Away from the fight, toward the Danger Room controls. Cameras and sensors destroyed before they could catch sight of the two.

Malice brushed the mind of Blockbuster, Vertigo and Scalphunter. The first grabbed the line of prisoners and began bringing them down while the other two entered the complex to join the fight and herd the rest of the X-Men to the Danger Room. She could feel Xavier in the control room with Doctor McCoy. The professor was trying to launch attacks at their minds now. But Malice was holding him back. The Devil was helping her on the Astral plane. Gambit could feel him brushing against his mind, pleasure and smug satisfaction at what he saw through his son's eyes.

He didn't bother being subtle with the control room. He lit the door up and let it explode. He and Malice entered to find Xavier tossed from his chair, unconscious and bleeding from a gash near his right eye. His head had collided with the hard edge of the computer banks. Beast was struggling to stand. Two inhibitors floated in and secured themselves to their captives. Cuffs followed, binding Beast's hands wrists behind his back as Gambit manually attached a chain to the collar and linked him to Xavier's dead weight.

The glass separating the control room from the Danger Room shattered with a thought and Gambit hopped up on the ledge, lighting a cigarette as he watched the rest of the X-Men herded inside like cattle to the slaughter. Malice manipulated the controls and the room began to shift, joining the battle on the side of the invaders. The X-Men were captured with relative ease once the room came alive.

Each collared as they collapsed to unconsciousness and then bound. Blockbuster dragged the others in to join their fellows and Scalphunter brought the heavy skeleton, the only remains of the great Wolverine. Grey Crow had expressed the desire to take the remaining metal for himself once this was over. Gambit was still debating if he would let him or not.

He hopped back into the room as Malice lifted Xavier and Beast down to the floor to join the others. The temperature below him dropped and the snow covered remains of a once majestic citadel appeared around the X-Men. The ceiling of the trial room open to the elements as the wind whipped through, chilling the inhabitants and waking those who now stood chained to the walls.

They had presumed to put him on trial and judge him. It was time for them to be judged.

He landed in a drift of snow and felt nothing of the cold, his body glowing lightly, keeping him warm as he walked to the group. He approached Jubilee first. She was only just starting to come around.

He broke her neck before she could register what her eyes were seeing. He had promised to make her death quick, after all. If only to himself.

Gambit sat in the judges' chair and waited until they were all awake, got a good look at him. At who he was with. At the metal skeleton at his feet. He smiled at their shocked and betrayed looks and opened a tesseract. The Devil walked through, hands behind his back as he looked the captives over.

"Sinister. What have you done to Gambit?" Cyclops hissed out, rattling his chains as he tried to lunge at the man.

The Devil chuckled and placed a hand to his chest, looking quiet innocent, "I? I have done nothing to Remy. I am just a witness at this trial."

Gambit stood and banged the gavel on the counter top before him, grinning like a madman, "I call dis trial o' de X-Men ta order. Prosecution, step forward and present de charges"

Malice approached, turning around and leaning against the bench, "Prosecution sets forth that the X-Men did willingly and knowingly betray the trust of Gambit. Did willingly and knowingly fail to give him the second chances that they keep spouting to each other about. Did willingly and knowingly leave him to die in the cold of Antarctica for a crime he didn't commit. Furthermore, we bring charges against the X-Man called Rogue for deceit and the callous breaking of poor Remy's heart."

Gambit twirled the gavel and kicked his feet up, "Defense, step forward and present your intent."

Scrambler approached and bowed to the bench, "Your honor, we intend to prove that Malice looks very good in tight leather."

Gambit nodded and gestured to the rest of the Marauders, "Jury, you may take your seats. Prosecution, you may begin."

"Stop this Gambit!" Xavier's voice caught the room's attention, "I do not know what happened in Antarctica, but this is not the way to address it. You have murdered three people already-"

"Five, actually," the Cajun interrupted casually. "Dat secretary... never did get her name, Dazzler, Stormy, Wolvie and Jubilee."

The X-Men practically choked in shock, all eyes falling to the body of the little Asian girl laying peacefully to one side.

Gambit shrugged, "De only one dat suffered was Logan and dat couldn't be helped. He was in de way o' getting' at de rest o' you and he don't die easily. Had to explode his cells one by one. Dat took quite a bit o' effort."

"Remy... sugah," Rogue looked at him, horrified, disbelieving.

"Oh, cherie," he smiled down at her, leaning forward, "Don' you worry none. You goin' ta suffer de most." He looked over at Malice, taking her hand and kissing it, "You still have de floor, mam'selle."

She smiled back and kissed the air in turn before looking back at the X-Men, "I'd like to call Mr. Sinister to the stand in his professional capacity as a doctor."

"De court calls forward M'seiur Sinister to de stand."

The Devil walked to the bench and sat down.

"Do ya swear ta tell de whole truth and all dat jazz?"

"I do."

"Prosecution, you may proceed."

Malice moved with a seductive strut to the witness box, sitting on the edge and turning to smile at the Devil, "Mr. Sinister, you found Gambit in this cold wasteland and acted as his attending physician following his rescue, correct?"

"Absolutely."

"Please tell the court in what condition you found Gambit."

"I found him huddled against the remains of the citadel wall. Frostbite had already settled in and he would have died within hours had I not retrieved him."

"Were there any other complications?"

"Yes."

"Please give a full description, including the treatment in the weeks following. And please keep it to layman's terms so everyone can understand. Not all the X-Men are as learned as Mr. McCoy and Mr. Xavier."

The Devil leaned forward and steepled his fingers, a pleasant smile on his black lips, "Certainly. As already stated, Remy was suffering from exposure and frostbite had settled in. He nearly lost his right hand and the toes from both feet. I had to spend three days of constant treatment and stimulated regrowth of tissue to keep him from losing them. He did lose his hearing, his eardrums having shattered and his eyesight suffered as well. He was lucky not to be blinded. I conducted laser surgery on his eyes to restore his sight to its previous condition, followed closely by surgery to replace his eardrums with ones I grew from his cells. It took weeks for him to recover enough that whispers wouldn't cause him pain."

"And why do you think he suffered from so much, in your professional opinion."

"I believe it was because he was left to die. He had no supplies. He wasn't even wearing a shirt. There was nothing but the ruins of the citadel to keep the elements from getting to him. I believe the only reason he survived as long as he did was because of his ability to charge himself with biokinetic energy. It would have kept him warm for some time. A couple days at least."

"And how long after he was left to die did you find him?"

"Truthfully, I don't know. More than a couple days, though. Else he wouldn't have been suffering the way he was."

"Thank you, Mr. Sinister," Malice said, lowering herself from the stand and walking away, "No further questions."

Gambit looked to Scrambler, "Defense, the witness is yours."

Scrambler straightened his tie and jacket and approached the stand, "You are a very long lived man, are you not, Mr. Sinister?"

"I am."

"And would you say you've met many women in your life time?"

"I have."

"And have seen plenty of women in tight leather before?"

"Yes."

"And would you say that Malice looks good in hers?"

"I would."

"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the best, where would you place her?"

"Eleven."

"No further questions," Scrambler bowed to the bench again and walked off.

Gambit waved at the Devil, "You are free ta leave de box, M'seiur."

The Devil nodded and stood, amusement painting his face as he moved away. The judge turned to the Jury, "You've heard de statements and de testimony, please deliberate and give your verdict."

"Hey! Don't we get to testify! Our defense is a mockery. We should get the right to speak for ourselves!" Warren yelled, followed by the others backing him up with their own cries of unfairness.

Gambit tilted his head as if thinking, "Hrmm... Non. Ya don't." He looked back at the jury, "Ya got a verdict for me?"

Scalphunter stood and nodded, "We do. We find the X-Men guilty as charged. We sentence them to suffer in any manner you see fit. Furthermore, we sentence the X-Man called Rogue to suffer the most. To be the last to die. Also, Malice looks very good in leather and should wear it more often."

Gambit banged his gavel against the bench and then tossed it into the air, letting it explode above him before jumping to the floor in front of Warren, "We'll start wit' you. My self-righteous defense dat walked out on me 'cause o' mistake I made. Oh, poor you. Lost your wings. Other people suffered dat night to." He grabbed Warren by the collar and detached him from the others, dragging the man to the center of the room and chaining him to the floor.

Gambit then turned his attention to Rogue and met her eyes as he grabbed the first of Angel's long, elegant primary feathers and pulled it out, charging the tip to make it pop off easier, "She loves me." He pulled a second one, "She loves me not."

The X-Men screamed at him, begging and pleading for him to stop as the the Marauder's watched with glee. He kept pulling feathers, his voice in sing song as he played the ages old game, eyes never leaving Rogue's. Warren's voice was raw as the final primary was tugged from his bloodied wings and Gambit spoke with a voice full of pain, "She loves me not."

He dropped the feather and patted Angels' head, looking down at the man and running his fingers through the blond hair, "Figures. I give my heart ta her and she don't return the sentiment. Should have known, all dose times she ran from me. All de times she refuse ta believe dat dere be ways around her little problem. Plenty o' ways ta touch, but she wouldn't believe me. Never really did trust me."

Warren's body convulsed and then fell limp, lifeless. His heart had popped a bit more forcefully than Gambit had intended. Remy released his chains and Harpoon dragged his body to lay on top of Jubilee's.

The Cajun lit a cigarette and took a drag, looking over the group, "Who's next... Oh! I know!" He sauntered over Xavier and sat down on the crippled man's lap, taking his head between his hands. "You tried, Professor. Tried ta make de world a better place, tried ta make me a better person, tried ta teach de X-Men tolerance and still dey left me dere. Left me ta die for a massacre I didn' commit. For a massacre I tried ta prevent. Ya tried an' ya failed."

"Gambit, do not do this. Do not continue on this path," the professor tried to plead with him.

Gambit just shook his head and smiled sadly at him, "I truly am sorry ta disappoint ya. But we all gotta play de hand's we're dealt. And de X-Men, dey dealt me dis hand."

Xavier's heart went pop. His body went limp. Cyclops screamed, struggling against his bonds, choking himself and drawing blood as the chains bit into him with from the strain. Jean broke down crying, sobbing into the floor. The others just stared in disbelief.

Remy walked along the line of prisoners, popping the hearts of those he didn't care to let suffer too much. Those who didn't leave him to die. Bishop growled at him, his lifetime of suspicions confirmed before his heart went pop, the inhibitor keeping him from absorbing the energy. It was all so elegant, Gambit thought as he walked the line. No harm to the rest of the body and very little pain before they died. It was merciful and quick. Better than the death they had left him to.

The Devil didn't try to stop him. He would harvest the genetic material and clone any he wanted to continue to propagate.

Only three remained alive: Hank, Betsy and Rogue. Joseph and Maggot hadn't been among them. He could take his revenge on them later, if they weren't dead already.

He drug Hank to the center of the room next, chaining him over the pool of freezing blood from Warren's punishment, "How ta make you suffer what ya need ta... Ya see, M'seiur Bete, I put a lot o' thought into how to make everyone pay, what would make dem suffer de most. But I wasn't sure what would be right for you... for de longest time, I couldn't figure out how to really make you suffer. Den it came ta me. You've fought so hard to keep your bestial side at bay. I'd kill ya by making you dat animal you're so afraid of. Well, M'seiur Sinister will. I'm no spook."

Beast glared at him as the Devil stepped forward, placing a hand on the man's head, "It is truly a waste, Doctor McCoy. Your intellect will be sorely missed, but my son wishes for you to suffer and I have not the heart to deny him his vengeance."

"Son?" Hank looked in shock between the two as Sinister chuckled.

"Oh yes. I would have thought you'd have figured it out long before this. You have had access to my genetic material before. And all these years with Remy's... well, I suppose I gave you too much credit if you never cross checked his with your database. Goodbye Doctor McCoy."

The Devil entered his mind, forced his way in and unchained the Beast that waited in the darkest recesses of the scientist's mind. He submerged the personality, the humanity of the man before him and ruthlessly tore his memories from him.

Only a slobbering, blue animal remained when he pulled his mind from the other. The Devil patted his head like one would a dog and released the chains, removed the inhibitor, "Be a good boy and sit in the corner now, Beast."

The animal lopped away, doing as it was told, growling at the Marauder's who dared to get to close, only physically resembling the man it had been.

Gambit watched him before looking back at the Devil, a question in his expression. The Devil smirked, "I never got to buy you a puppy, indulge me my sentimentalities."

Remy laughed, "I ain't walking him."

"He can walk himself."

Rogue and Betsy were both still now. Just staring at him, minds dull with pain and disbelief and despair. This was a slaughter. And there was nothing they could do.

Gambit targeted Psylocke next, dragging her to the center of the room, chaining her as he had Warren and Hank.

She didn't resist. She was too numb. She hadn't felt this way in a long time. Completely helpless. Gambit's hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to look at him. He pushed his cigarette against her forehead, burning her as he put it out, "I think I'd just like ta see you dead, Betts. You spiked me with dat knife o' yours, so I'm goin' ta stab ya with one in return. Make ya choke on your own black blood."

He held his hand out and Scalphunter stepped forward, using his metal manipulation to break off one of Logan's claws and create a handle for it before handing it to his leader. Remy traced the edge against Betsy's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, before plunging it into her right lung. He pulled it out and stabbed into the other. The knife left her and he dropped her head as she began coughing up blood, the thick red liquid flooding her air ways, drowning her from the inside.

It took her ten minutes to die. Rogue could only watch, eyes glazing over in numb horror. She was the only one left.

Remy moved to sit in front of her, hand lifting to cup her cheek. She tried pulling away, to keep him from touching her, but he would not be deterred. His grip hard and bruising as he coo'd sweet assurances to her, "Aw chere, it'll be okay. Shhh... just stay calm, okay. Dat's a good girl."

She spit in his face.

He flinched and wiped the gob away, "Now, now, chere, dat ain't nice."

"I ain't your chere."

He smiled sadly and smoothed her hair back with his other hand, putting the knife down so he wouldn't cut her prematurely, "Non. You ain't my chere. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. But I was yours, petite. I loved you. Still love you, actually. Gave you my heart, only ta have you destroy it. And it hurts, petite. It hurts so much."

He rested his forehead against hers, keeping her from moving with that bruising grip on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, pulling away before she could bite him, "We could have been wonderful together, petite. If you would have just trusted me."

"You weren't honest with me."

"I tried ta be. Tried ta show you what happened. Funny how when I ask ya to touch me and take de memories ya need ta, you refuse. But when everyone is accusing me o' being a bad man, ya don't even hesitate ta pull de memories and judge me. Ya never loved me. Never trusted me. Ya jus' used me. Ya knew I'd be dere for ya. Be waiting for ya ta come back ta my arms after you ran off and destroyed whatever relationship ya had with de flavor o' week."

"That's not true..."

He chuckled bitterly, "Sure it is, chere. And ya know it. But dat's okay. Ya won't be able ta hurt me anymore after today." Gambit lifted the knife and placed the tip over her heart. "I'm going ta bleed ya out. Drain ya life, de way ya drained my heart. Goodbye Rogue."

He pressed the blade into her skin and through the bone, slicing downward. Remy dropped the knife and wrapped his arms around her as she died. Holding her as her spirit left her body. Holding her long after she went cold and stiff.

When Gambit finally stood, he picked up the knife, Wolverine's claw, "Computer: End simulation."

"Antarctic Trial Ended, Gambit." The snow disappeared, leaving the Marauders in the middle of the Danger Room, the bodies of the X-Men around them. Beast whined in confusion and scooted closer to the Devil, who rested a hand on his head in comfort.

Gambit removed his trench coat and dropped it on the floor, placing the Joker on top of it as the Devil opened a tesseract portal. Scalphunter drug Wolverine's skeleton through it, the others picking up the bodies of the X-Men the Devil wanted to keep samples of.

It didn't take long for the clean up and only an hour later Gambit stood alone in the Danger Room, tesseract open before him. Waiting.

"Cerebro: Initiate Self Destruct Sequence: Last Stand, si vous plait. Authorization: Gambit."

"Self Destruct Sequence: Last Stand initiated, Gambit. Self Destruction in Thirty Seconds."

Remy stepped through the portal.

**::: :::**

End


End file.
